


Pancakes and Angels

by reigningqueenofwords



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-11 23:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17456249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reigningqueenofwords/pseuds/reigningqueenofwords





	Pancakes and Angels

Waking up, you looked over at the clock and groaned. It was too early to be up. Seven in the morning. You went to lay back down, but the smell of something burning woke you up the rest of the way. Scrambling out of bed, you didn’t even bother to put on pants. You were currently wearing one of the Sam’s old Stanford shirts. It came down to mid-thigh, so it was actually kinda perfect. You had swiped it from the laundry when you first moved in. He never cared.

Sam and Dean were both out on a case, so that only left one person. Angel. Whatever. Cas. Why on Earth he was trying to cook was beyond you. He’d told you multiple times that everything tastes like molocules to him. Yet, he still ate your cooking. It was sweet. Probably why you fell for him so quickly.

As you rounded the corner, you stopped, eyes wide. “Babe….?” You started, looking around. There was flour everywhere. He looked adorable in his pajama pants that he didn’t need because he didn’t sleep, and his bedhead. He’d spend most of the night in bed with you, just reading, or watching you sleep, before going off to do who knew what. “Um. What’s going on?” As he turned you had to hold in a laugh. The flour had also made it’s way to his face.

“I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” He said with a small smile. “I can’t get the pancakes just right. How does Dean do it?” He asked, a look of confusion on his face. It was cute when he put so much effort in, and just couldn’t get it. It was almost always because he was over complicating things.

Walking over to the cupboard, you opened it and pulled out a box of pancake mix. “He adds water.” You said simply with a giggle. His face was priceless. “Have you _never_ watched him make breakfast before?” Surely he had! He’d known the boys longer than you had.

He shook his head. “I never had a reason to. Maybe I should start observing him when he’s cooking.” He said, more to himself than anything.

You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing the tip of his nose. “For one, you don’t have to learn to cook. I love you all the same. You don’t even eat, babe. Secondly, you are _beyond_ lucky that Dean isn’t home. He’d kill you for this mess.” He looked around, as if just seeing the mess.

“No problem.” He smirked. With a snap of his fingers, everything was clean again.

Laughing, you shook your head. “Cheater.” Not that you minded. It saved you from missing a spot and then explaining it to Dean. For a guy who got covered in blood all the time, he was a stickler for things being clean. “Now. Would you like to let me make breakfast?” You asked, not moving your arms.


End file.
